A Stunning Stranger
by GlowingRed
Summary: Tired from volunteering to help clean Hogwarts after the final battle, Gabrielle Delacour wanders off for a break. She comes across a strange, beautiful mirror with the ability to see more than skin-deep, and she makes a startling discovery about herself.


****Dearest, readers! Welcome! This piece was written for a challenge given by **_**lost in my design**_** on the ****Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum**** – The Mirror of Erised Competition! **

**The goal: compose a work detailing what a character would see upon looking in the Mirror of Erised; the challenge: the character was randomly selected, of course! **

**Given Gabrielle Delacour, I tried to do her justice. I've never written a story concerning an absolutely blank-slate-character; I hope it turned out alright. Reviews are always welcome (erm, **_**encouraged**_**)! Please, though, no flames!**

_**Warnings**_** – This work is rated Teen for discussions of sexuality.**

-X-X-X-X-

Standing in the shadow of a large statue of Odgen the Old, who was currently missing his right arm, she fleetingly wondered if any British Ministry employee's were losing hair over the absurd amount of underage magic happening at that moment. It didn't matter, she supposed; it had not mattered for quite some time. Children and their magic tricks had fallen down their list of priorities somewhere in the beginning of 1997.

A taller figure appeared next to her as she wiped her dry brow; the figure rested a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps it would be best if you took a break, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle inclined her head to gaze at her breathtaking sister; Fleur was taller now, but Gabrielle suspected it would not be long until she caught up. She nodded. "Perhaps. It's tiring."

"It is." Gabrielle wondered when her sister's very French accent had faded away. "It is necessary, though. The school must be healed—"

"But first we must clean the wounds," Gabrielle finished, reciting the mantra Molly Weasley had taken to chanting at her children when they shied away from Hogwarts cleaning duty. Everyone had offered their help at first, but two months into the project, and it looked as though they had barely made a dent. Moving the stone was a tedious job; move the wrong stone first and more were guaranteed to come crumbling after it. Gabrielle was deemed too young to move the rocks; she had been assigned the dull duty of dusting.

Fleur nodded, the sunlight streaming through the broken wall casting an odd shine over her hair. She squeezed Gabrielle's shoulder. "You only ever saw Hogwarts from the grounds during the Tournament, I believe. I wish you had seen it in its prime; you would have enjoyed it greatly."

"Perhaps I will take a break. I'll just go for a short walk."

"Don't wander too far." Fleur had been extra protective as of late. With a fluid movement, she gathered Gabrielle into her arms and squeezed tightly. "I love you dearly, sister."

Gabrielle returned the sentiment with her arms wrapped around her sister.

She wandered down the hallway of their floor toward the area she knew the staircases to be. Picking one at random, she walked upward until her legs grew weary; then she took the first hallway she saw.

This hallway was strangely undamaged. There were several marks along the walls from obvious spellfire, but it appeared she had walked high enough to escape the part of the castle most affected by the battles. Gabrielle wandered slowly down it, peering at empty picture frames and vacated platforms where shining armor had once stood. Reaching the end of the hall, she turned around. She was somewhat surprised to see there were no offshoot hallways from the main vein; in her experience, Hogwarts was more like a maze than anything. She had almost reached the stairs when her feet stopped. She didn't want to return to the work just yet.

Gabrielle turned again. She would traverse the hallway once more before returning, she decided; she just needed a place to be for a moment's peace. She continued all the way to the end, paused to admire the strange scaffolding only present on one side of the hall, and turned around another time. She was midway through the hallway when she noticed a strange door to her left. The other doors of the hallway were inlaid to the stone wall, to give them the appearance of an archway, and all leading, presumably, to various classrooms. This new door (and Gabrielle was certain it was not present on her last trip through the hall) was almost flush with the wall, and exceedingly dull. There was no detailing carved into the dark wood, nor an extravagant door handle. Gabrielle raised her hand to the frame to make certain it wasn't an odd sort of picture, or perhaps a magical illusion.

The door was real. Her hand slid from the frame to the handle. It was cool to the touch. It turned with effort, as if it had not been used in a very long time. The door was surprisingly heavy to open.

Gabrielle stepped inside, closing the door noiselessly behind her, and immediately, she was glad this room had remained untouched during the battles. It was beautiful; simple, but beautiful. It was the sort of room her mother would have designed – light blue walls with a raised texturing; white, delicate, flowery designs bordering the bottom twenty centimeters of each wall; one white couch with a low back but tall arms set in front of a low-crackling fireplace; pillows of the palest pink adorning the carpeted floor directly before the fireplace; and a single, tall, golden mirror placed jauntily in the corner.

Gabrielle took several steps to the fireside, intent on warming her hands; even at the end of July, Hogwarts castle held its cold interior with an intensity rivaling the cells of Azkaban in the windy season. She slowly rubbed the feeling back into her fingers, wondering if anyone was returning to the room. The fire was lit when she arrived, but that hardly meant anything; she had seen stranger things at Hogwarts.

Sufficiently warmed, she considered a light rest on the tempting couch. However, she was certain Fleur would worry if she didn't return soon. Skirting around the inviting cushions, she headed toward the mirror. It looked ancient. The ornate golden frame was smooth and captivatingly beautiful, but Gabrielle could see a few tiny scratches when she looked closely. The top left corner of the mirror was greatly smudged, as if someone had rested his or her forehead on it for a nap.

"_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi,_" was carved in curling letters over the top of the frame.

Gabrielle frowned. Perhaps it was elfin made; they had quite a strange language.

She dropped her eyes to the reflective surface, expecting tired, darkened eyes and a too-pale complexion; she was certainly there, but another girl was standing with her as well. With a startled yelp, Gabrielle pulled her wand and dropped to a crouched position with a graceful, well-practiced spin she often used during the war in situations with heavy spellfire.

But, the strange thing was, no little girl was standing behind her. In fact, no one was standing behind her at all. The fire was still crackling merrily, and the door was still firmly closed.

She reached her arm behind her; the mirror was still firmly there. Exhaling deeply, she stood again and turned back to the strange mirror. The young girl, looking to be near twelve, Gabrielle's own age, was still standing just slightly behind Gabrielle's reflected figure. The girl smiled shyly and tilted her head to her right. Gabrielle could see the question burning in her eyes – _do you remember me?_

Of course she remembered her.

Ananke Roux – she looked the same as Gabrielle remembered, except the mirror had aged her several years (rather appropriately, too, if Gabrielle had to guess; she had not seen her friend in almost three years). Red, fiery waves flowed to her waist, and she had a daisy tucked behind one ear. She was dressed in a delicate sundress, but still wearing the muddy flat top shoes her mother had always despised. Better to climb trees with, Ananke had always said.

How could Gabrielle forget her?

Monsieur and Madame Delacour had never been the most affectionate couples. Gabrielle struggled to recall a time in her childhood when they had held hands or had given each other more than a polite kiss on the cheek. Gabrielle had thought they were very private people for a very long time; that was still true, she supposed.

Returning early from a play date, she had never meant to hear her mama and papa's raised voices; she had not planned to intrude upon their private moment; she had not had any intentions of staying rooted to the spot in their doorway after curiosity had bested her – but she had. She had watched with wide eyes as their fight escalated and finally culminated in violence.

The Ananke in the mirror seemed to understand the direction Gabrielle's thoughts had taken. She reached out her small hand, her fingers open; Gabrielle slowly reached forward, as well. Her fingertips only connected with the chilled surface of the mirror, but Ananke smiled anyway. It was a smile of encouragement.

When she had run, she had run to Ananke's home. Or, rather, she had run to the large Chapel Oak tree planted in Ananke's backyard, where Ananke had found her teary-eyed, shortly before nightfall. Ananke had stretched out her arms, wordlessly held her for over an hour, and offered to walk her home when she found herself again.

Gabrielle imagined that moment was when everything shifted – at least, that was when she noticed everything beginning to shift. Ananke's skin had been an incandescent white in the moonlight, and soft as the lightest silk; it reminded Gabrielle of her mother's skin, not her father's. And Ananke had hummed, too, a tune Gabrielle remembered from her toddler days. When she finally lifted her head, Ananke's warm, round, whiskey-colored eyes had eased away her suffering and conveyed a multitude of messages – _I understand; everything will be alright; your mother loves you; I, your best friend, love you._

Gabrielle had only just finished reliving her fateful night encounter with an old best friend when the surface of the mirror suddenly rippled. She pulled her hand back as if she had been burned, clutching her hand to her quickly beating chest. Gabrielle watched interestedly as the surface shifted.

Suddenly, another girl was standing in the mirror. She stood in front of Gabrielle with her back turned to the room, and her chestnut curls blowing gently behind her as if she was walking on a spring day. Most peculiarly, she was wearing a beige and green detailed skirt, and _only _a beige and green detailed skirt. Her feet were bare. In the moments her hair blew in the correct direction, Gabrielle could see slender, tanned shoulders.

She, too, looked exactly as Gabrielle remembered. The mirror had not aged her, as it had for Ananke; she was still nineteen.

Her name was Astrild. Gabrielle never knew her surname. She had been a friend of Fleur. Gabrielle met her shortly before the beginning of England's war on Lord Voldemort when Fleur had hosted a small party with her friends from Beauxbatons. Gabrielle had invited a few girls from the neighborhood to join, as well. Fleur had not minded; she and Gabrielle were very close. Huddled in a corner near her mother's grand piano, Gabrielle's eleven-year-old friends had gossiped and giggled behind their hands over the boys Fleur had brought into the home; the French students were tall, with dark hair and very handsome looks. Gabrielle had agreed that they were handsome when her friends asked, but she hadn't really thought so. They looked like any other boy she had ever met.

Gabrielle had only been able to endure their laughter and whispers for so long. Tiring of her girlfriend's antics, she wandered down the hall. She had thought to visit the windowsill in Fleur's bedchambers, as it provided a magnificent view of each sunset. She had turned the door handle and was halfway into the room before realizing it had another occupant. Standing in the middle of the floor, half changed into her party outfit, was Astrild. Her arms had flown to cover her nude chest, and her head turned quickly, whipping her long hair over her shoulder, but she had only laughed and smiled when she saw Gabrielle; she had thought she was one of the boys. Astriled had invited her in, but Gabrielle had been too embarrassed. Cheeks flushed, she shut the door and fled back to the party.

Standing with her still-flustered friends, Gabrielle had the strange urge to giggle. The boys didn't make her want to giggle; Astrild made her want to giggle.

The Astrild in the mirror finally turned her head, flicking her hair over her shoulder similarly to how she had done almost two years ago. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled a very toothy grin at Gabrielle and brought a hand over the same shoulder to wiggle her fingers in a wave.

Gabrielle had raised her hand to wave back when the surface of the mirror rippled once more, and Astrild vanished into the warped exterior before she could say hello.

When the mirror stilled, Gabrielle frowned.

She didn't recognize this woman. She racked her brain for a name or a face, but nothing came to her. After almost a full minute of thought, Gabrielle decided this was a woman of the mirror's creation, not one from her own past.

Gabrielle wondered how old this woman was. She wasn't even certain she could make an appropriate guess. She was taller, her skin had lost that shiny glint that children carried, and she was dressed in a modest dress her mother might have worn; those clues alone might have made her appear in her twenties. But her eyes were so alight with childlike enthusiasm and laughter – she couldn't be a day over fifteen.

Gabrielle blinked, and the woman blinked back at her, offering a lively, captivating smile. Gabrielle wondered if she was a Veela, but she was lacking the characteristically bright blond hair of the Veela family. This woman's hair was the deepest brown, but she was more beautiful than any Veela Gabrielle had ever known.

She was tempted to sit on the floor. She was tempted to sit with her legs crossed and stare at this mysterious woman until she had drank her fill and memorized every detail, from her glimmering teeth to her carefully designed nails. Her knees were just giving way to the temptation when the woman in the mirror shook her head, and looked to the sky.

Gabrielle looked to the ceiling, too, but she didn't see anything there.

She looked back to the mirror, where the woman was smiling at her still. She looked upward again, inclining her chin momentarily upward, as well.

Gabrielle followed her lead, tilting her head and allowing her eyes to follow slowly. She noticed again the strange words at the top of the mirror. She looked back to the female figure.

"The inscription?"

The woman in the mirror nodded.

Gabrielle took a step closer to the large mirror and raised her hand. She let her fingers trail slowly over the jumbled letters, left-to-right, looking for any pattern. She repeated the action several times to no avail before returning to her silent companion. The beautiful woman smiled again before taking the hand of the Gabrielle in the mirror. She raised them high above her head, and together they moved their hands in a sweeping arc from right-to-left.

Gabrielle watched their slow arc come to an end. When their hands descended, they didn't disconnect; somehow, the image of herself holding hands with this stunning stranger warmed her belly, and her fingertips prickled in the odd way they always did when many spells were cast at once in a small area. Gabrielle raised her hand again and made her own arc – right-to-left.

The letters of the inscription remained unchanged. She looked back to her companion for another clue, but her only response was another smile. Gabrielle looked up once more - _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Tracing right-to-left once more, Gabrielle reached the final word and gasped. She retraced the arc slowly, deciphering the deceptively simply puzzle as she traveled. "I show not your face, but your heart's desire."

Gabrielle whispered the words to the room, but she might as well have shouted for how determinedly they rang about in her skull. She looked again in the mirror. Ananke, Astrild, this stranger – they were her desires? More than anything else in the world, her heart pined for these individuals – these women?

As if a candle had suddenly been lit, Gabrielle understood. She understood why she had never giggled over boys or gossiped when a new man moved into the neighborhood. She knew why she had always loved to run her fingers over her mama's soft jaw, but hated the feel of her papa's stubbly chin. She admitted her fascination with the radiance of Ananke's skin and the soft curves of Astrild's shoulders. She realized and accepted all of it, and she wanted to grin and shout her understanding to the ceilings.

"Gabrielle!"

Gabrielle whipped around. Fleur was standing in the door, the brightly lit hallway casting her face in shadow, but Gabrielle could still make out her worried frown.

"Oh, ma chère sœur, I was so worried! Have you been here this whole time?"

Gabrielle looked down to the silver watch that had stopped working halfway through the war; she shook her head. "Oui. I must have dozed off. Je suis désolé, Fleur."

Fleur smiled gently. "It is understandable, yes. Are you ready to return to the work?"

Gabrielle looked back over her shoulder. The mysterious figure was still waiting in the mirror. She smiled kindly at Gabrielle before turning to the Gabrielle in the mirror and leaning down slightly to kiss her gently against her cheek. Although she could not feel the kiss, the cheek of Gabrielle's still firmly located in the odd Hogwarts room burned hot.

After years of wondering why she was special, why she was different, Gabrielle thought she might finally understand. And she thought she might be ready to embrace her desires, to follow her passions, to find her loves. She wondered how her family would react; how her friends would treat her. She knew her choice was not going to be an easy one among her traditional family members. She guessed the boys would laugh at her. She imagined her girlfriends would look at her strangely. But she also understood that as long as she could find this beautiful woman, none of it mattered; it would never matter. The woman smiled again.

"Gabrielle?"

She nodded, with one last look into the golden mirror. "I'm ready."

-X-X-X-X-X-

*****End Notes: When Harry first sees Gabrielle in GoF, he thinks she can be no more than eight. According to HP Lexicon, Gabrielle was born around 1986. Extrapolating, she should be around 12 during the reconstruction of Hogwarts.**

**Ananke is the Greek primordial (born in the beginning of the universe) goddess of inevitability. I thought, considering the character's role in helping Gabrielle discover her sexuality, the name to be fitting. **

**Roux, in the French language, signifies red. **

**Astrild translate to Amor in Old Norse; more literally, the term means, "love-fire." I did not mean to insinuate that an eleven-year-old girl was in the throws of lust, but the incident was key in her journey to discover her sexuality. Love-fire seemed appropriate.**

"**Ma chère sœur" – My dearest sister; "je suis désolé" – I am sorry. (I don't speak a lick of French, unless you count the ability to count to three. I pulled the translation from the internet, so I hope it's not total rubbish!)**

**I hope you enjoyed it! **_**Please**_**, send me your thoughts!**


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